


Tiny Wild One-shots

by Aurorafulnerd



Series: LU Disc stuff [4]
Category: Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: All written(as of posting) for the angst channel, Gen, So that's what's you should expect
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-23 19:51:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18708850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurorafulnerd/pseuds/Aurorafulnerd
Summary: Just posting the one-shots I wrote for tiny Wild in the LU discord on a request.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is y'alls fault, you know who you are.
> 
> Ahem,,,
> 
> Hello! Welcome to my shitty writing! Character's are made by Nintendo, perfected by Jojo, modified by the LU discord, and ultimately ruined by me! If you don't know what Linked Universe is I highly suggest you check it out on Tumblr!

His body is tiny now, smaller even than Four. Sharp, pained gasps tear through his lips as he curls into himself on the rocky ground. 

"Wild!" Twilight yells, dropping to his knees and scooping the kid, no older than 6 or 7, into his arms.

The others make quick work of the Wizzrobe that had done this. Then they are also by his side, concern written in their faces and actions as they reach for the heaving, crying child.

"Wild, are you okay?" Time questions, his voice is imperceptibly worried to all except Twilight.

Wild doesn't answer verbally, but pushes Twi's hands off of himself in borderline panicked movements. His eyes stare through them sightlessly, his arms wrap around his midsection and he curls into himself. Away from them.

"Link," Warrior tries, reaching out for him again, "Are you okay? How can we help?" 

It's somehow the wrong thing to say, because the second he hears his name the child is still. His breathing stills, and when his head comes up his tear stained face is completely emotionless. His eyes switch rapidly between Time and Warrior, and his small body tenses almost imperceptibly. 

"Link?" Warrior says again.

His eyes snap to Warrior and settle there. His ears lower in a display of submission normally saved for talking to someone far, far above your rank. A king or queen. It's an admirable feat for a Hylian so young. To control themselves so completely. His body is shifting immediately after, pulling out of it's defensive curl to kneel before Warrior, back straight and head down. A position and reaction that should not be trained into a mind so young.

"Yes, sir?" His voice is small and submissive, the pain and fear is carefully concealed behind a mask no child should be forced to wear.


	2. Fight

Wild walks a half-step behind the group. Ears picked up, eyes expertly scanning the surrounding forests. Any attempt to talk to him or slow to his side were failures. Even the worried glances sent his way were received with his cool, neutral expression. An expression they hadn't seen crack since 'Yes, sir?'. That's why it's so surprising when he's suddenly picking up speed and drawing level with Warrior.

"Sir. Monsters ahead." He says quietly, the words accompanied by the same sickeningly submissive behavior they had seen before.

The whole group is instantly on high alert. Hands go to swords without a beat of hesitation and eyes warily scan for whatever the kid had picked up on. They halt when Warrior does, Wild immediately withdrawing until, with an exasperated roll of his eyes that makes subtly Wild flinch and cower away, he motions for the kid to take the lead.

Wild's steps are hesitant as he takes point. His posture is wary and hunched, not unlike an animal's for a split second before his eyes catch theirs and he straightens back to the immaculate form they hated his body knew. He leads them soundlessly through the woods for 20 or so seconds before their ears pick up what he had long ago. Squeals of bokoblins and the deep, huffing grunts of moblins. Growing closer as they progress.

They see his change in posture then is intentional. It shows in the way his back is still stiff and his movements robotic. But it's still a passing imitation of his usual stealth crouch, and his light body becomes feather quiet as he approaches the crest of a hill where the trees abruptly stop. He settles next to a tree, looking down at the camp below them as they follow his lead. 4 of his Bokoblins, 3 of Warrior's moblins. If they're put off by the fact that battle planning sharpness is the first thing they see in his eyes since his change, they don't mention it.

Warrior opens his mouth to strategize, but before he has a chance Wild is settling down in a much more natural crouch. Leaning forward intently, left hand bracing himself and right hand reaching over his back for a sword that isn't there. When his hand closes around air he jerks it back to his eyesight in a oh-so-brief moment of confusion.

"Wild," Legend hisses, "You're not fighting them."

The others can't help but agree, he's younger than even Time and Wind had started currently, and showing no signs of knowing anything that happened to him beyond that age. For all of bodily discipline, they didn't want him to fight unless necessary. He doesn't seem to see it that way though. He stiffens, and they see momentary fear in his eyes, directed not towards the enemies but Legend instead, before he's launching down the slope unarmed. 

The monsters notice him instantly, and within seconds he's expertly dodging their swings. The Link's are momentarily stunned from where they were just moving to help as he jumps and mid-backflip his body blurs. One second he's in the air and the next he's flickering into existence next to a bokoblin for a split second. They barely catch sight of a lightning fast punches thrown at its stomach before its stumbling at the force of the several unexpected blows. Wild wastes no time using the stumble to his advantage to throw his minuscule weight into taking the weapon from its loosened grip. Then he's ducking down intuitively as a moblin aims a swing that breezes over his head by a hair and crashes into the bokoblin at full force. They gape as the kid, now wielding a weapon nearly his size, springs and dodges through the enemies. Using their own attacks against them and occasionally flickering into periods of impossibly-swift movement that would end with the spiked club he had snatched impaling the enemies in heads and stomachs. 

When there's only two moblins left and the Links are thinking he might actually pull it off, things go wrong. It starts with Wind letting out an exhilarated whoop and charging in to help finish the fight. They can see Wild tense up, and all of that flowing, natural movement is suddenly replaced by stiff, robotic motions. He becomes choppy and slow as he reverts to trained moves ( _Knight_ trained moves, Warrior realizes), and it's mere seconds before one of the remaining moblins swings its spear out and sends his tiny body flying.

They charge forward, ~~more than one blaming themselves that they hadn't before now~~ and make quick, vengeance-filled work of the moblins. It feels achingly familiar as they once again gather around Wild's downed body. There's a ragged gash in his chest from where the dull blade of the spear had dragged along his body. There's too much blood for such a small body to be losing. 

Hyrule pulls a red potion and presses it insistently to Wild's lips as Twi's shaking hands once again cradle the small form upright to keep him from choking. 

But a tiny hand is in the way of healing. 

Wild's eyes are dull and disillusioned, but the mask is gone. Pain is there, yes, but overshadowed by fear.

"No." He whispers, pushing the bottle away, "No, please. I'll do better next time, I promi-" His words are abruptly cut short as his eyes roll back and his body sags into Twilight's grip.


	3. Discipline

Wild was smaller than Four now, and no one could quite figure out if he actually had this much stamina, or if it was all an elaborate act. Either way, he continued to walk in quick, light steps behind the party without his expressionless face giving away a single trace of exhaustion. Wind had started complaining an hour ago, and even the more traveled heroes were starting to feel lead infecting their movements. 

It's after dark when they run into a wall of stone, a solid cliff face stretching up endlessly, and Time finally calls it a day. With relived sighs, everyone sinks down and sets about unpacking their night rolls. Everyone, that is, except for Wild. He continues to stand at attention, eyes fixated on Warrior, waiting. Warrior determinedly ignores him for a moment, not wanting to make anything worse with how the kid reacted to him, but unwavering eyes finally force him to cave.

"Yes, Wild?" He asks, looking up.

"Orders sir?" Comes the tiny voice, monotone and lifeless. 

Warrior suppresses a shiver at the sound of it. No kid should sound like that. No _adult_ should sound like that.

"You heard Time, settle down for the night."

His words earn him a hesitant nod before Wild backs a few paces away and the eyes leave Warrior's skin. The kid quickly turns and disappears into the woods. Worried glances are exchanged before Twilight heaves himself back to his feet and volunteers to go after him.

"What are we going to do for dinner, without Wild?" Hyrule asks, "I could make soup!"

There's a collective groan, quickly silenced out of respect for their teammate. 

"I kinda get the slate," Wind says, "Wild showed me before, maybe I could get his cooking gear out?"

"Can you get them back in?" Legend's voice is weary and incredulous. 

"Yes? He just taps it to stuff to put things away right?"

"As long as that means a shot at a good meal, I'm not opposed." Says Warrior, eyeing a disapproving Time in case he should but in.

When Time says nothing, but gives a slight frown, they take it as permission. Wood is the first thing that materializes out of the slate, in massive quantities.

When pressed as to why so much, Wind yelps, "There's 478 more, I thought it would just be singular logs with that many in here!"

After a few tries, Wind eventually figures out how to put the wood back. Feeling more confident about it, he summons a stone of flint as well before bending over the slate in concentration to find the cooking pot. Grudgingly, Warrior moves from his spot to start the fire, acknowledging it as his job since he supported this. (He definitely doesn't give up with a huff and use the flame rod instead.)

That's how Wild, with a surprisingly big armful of wood, finds them sitting next to a roaring blaze. He stops short of the clearing, though their eyes are immediately drawn to his return. He stands there, unnaturally still for a moment, before he creeps into camp. He drops the sticks near the fire, digging around in them until he finds a short, springy branch. 

His head is down and his breathing unnaturally shallow as he gingerly approaches Warrior, who confusedly takes the branch when it is offered. Then Wild presents the back of his arms, and Warrior can't help but notice how he's shivering slightly.

"Sorry sir." Wild rasps, and Warrior is even more lost.

"What are you sorry for?" He gets the feeling that that was the wrong thing to say when Wild's body tenses and the trembling stops.

"I'm sorry, sir. For making you wait so long you felt the need to start the fire yourself." It's the longest sentence he's said since The Change, and it's the worst. Not only in context, but in the way his voice is stiff and formal and _scared_.

Warrior looks at the thin, springy branch. Looks at the kid in front of him, arms bared, ears sinking impossibly lower by the second. And it clicks. He drops the branch a second after realizing, and has to gently catch Wild's arms as he bends to retrieve it from the ground. Around him, he hears the others reacting as it dawns on them, Twilight's return is made known to him by a gasp from across the clearing. But there, in that moment, it's just him and Wild. The boy has started shaking again, and his head is bent so his hair falls in front of his eyes.

"Wild, look at me." Warrior commands, and his voice is harsher than he wants. "Look at me," He repeats in a softer tone.

Wild's head comes up. Warrior gets a brief glance of warring terror and confusion before his face is wiped again. If it wasn't for the intensified trembling of the wrists in his hands he would doubt Wild had any emotion in that moment. 

"We're equals Wild, okay? No more sir. No more hiding. I'm not going to hurt you, okay?"

Wild's head nods, but Warrior can read the _'I don't trust you'_ in the way his face doesn't change. _'This is a soldier. Too young, but a soldier.'_ He thinks, and has an idea.

"Cadet." He snaps, and allows his voice to be harsh and commanding. He knows it's working when the quivering wrists in his hands still. "Listen to me, and listen well. I will not be happy should I have to repeat this, yes?"

A weak nod.

"You are not to call me sir. You are not to not to consider me above you. And I'm going to be very angry with you should I _ever_ find out you've presented yourself to be hurt like that again. We are equals." He ends on a hiss.

His heart pangs when hope enters Wild's eyes. 

Then shatters when it's snuffed out with _'I don't believe you.'_


	4. Sick

There's something wrong, but nobody can put their finger on what. Every Link can feel it, tensions have been high all morning as they fixate sharp eyes on the trees and see enemies that aren't really there, and grow higher as the feeling intensifies over the course of the day. They're all exhausted, mentally and physically, by the time they stop for lunch. 

Warrior kicks himself mentally for not realizing it then, when Wild failed to immediately start setting up a cooking fire. Should've seen it in the lagging steps of the child when he does come over the fire Time starts. Definitely should have noticed it in the way his posture isn't immaculate and his expressionless eyes were cloudy and flickered with the barest traces of doubt, fear, and pain. 

But no, he's too caught up in his own head. Thinking how glad he is when Wild doesn't give Time a chance to hurt him for not setting up the fire. Reading the change in posture and mask as Wild _finally_ coming around. Finally trusting them to see anything beyond the perfect child knight he had played. 

He doesn't see the way the heat of the fire makes Wild sway when he's cooking. Chalks the flush in his cheeks up to him being pleased they enjoyed his meal, and then they're continuing on. He feels selfishly proud when Wild lags a step behind them, no longer on the high alert he constantly maintained. That _must_ mean he trusts them, not just with weakness but with keeping him safe. With them _being_ safe.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

They'd gotten used to Wild recklessly throwing himself into fights with smaller groups of monsters. They had learned by now that it just freaks him out more when they tried to hold him back. (The first and last time they had ended badly. Wild left the group that night when he thought they were asleep. The following search party led them to this child curled up in a tiny space beneath the roots of trees, shaking and heaving in a full blown panic attack. His soft venomous words, spoken at and to himself, had frightened them for what it implied of his childhood. _'Weak'_ he has hissed between sobs, _'Useless, stupid.'_ Their attempts at comforting him had him opening terrified eyes and the word _'Sorry,'_ endlessly slipping through his lips in sharp, ragged gasps. He had tried to control his breathing, bring himself back to his neutral, emotionless state, and when they see they're making him worse they can do nothing but retreat from his sight and keep watch as the kid gradually calms himself down ~~Their hearts ache as _'Leaving you.'_ and _'Deserve it.'_ join his other words.~~) So none of them bat an eye when the kid bounds past them and launches himself through the undergrowth to an enemy they hadn't even picked up on yet. 

They don't follow for fear they would mess up his rhythm and fighting flow, none of them could handle another incident. They didn't have the emotional stability to stomach him pushing them away from helping and healing when their interference was what had gotten them hurt in the first place. They couldn't hear those apologies and fears on his young tongue again. When he returns with shaky breaths and wavering steps but no blood to be seen, none of them move to help. 

He falls back into place wordlessly as he suppresses the gasps and pants. None of them comment, although baffled, at their sense of dread increasing though Wild has just taken care of whatever threat lurked nearby.

When they settle in for the night, several hours of hard travel later, no one sees Wild's body shaking as anything more than cold. They don't try to offer him blankets or pillows, they had attempted after last night's rain and none had gotten the answering _'I don't deserve them.'_ out of their heads. They couldn't help but feel guilty as they watched his body had shake in the cold, wet, dark worse then he shook now. It had taken persuasion and compromise, but they had finally bargained him into taking a blanket with the downside that he took first watch. 

They tried not to be angry in the morning when they find him still awake, staring into the woods, with the blanket folded neatly by his side.

"You're sleeping tonight, Wild." Time says, turning a toned down version of 'the glare' on him.

His mouth opens to respond before Warrior cuts in, "If you're really so set on seeing us as authority figures then it's best you don't argue. Go to sleep."

Wild's jaw snaps closed with an audible click and his head lowers with shame written over the steadily fading mask. There's a tiny second of hesitation before he withdraws from the group to the edge of the firelight. They breathe relived sighs as he sinks down onto the ground, but their victory is tainted when he fixates them with wary, disbelieving eyes before slowly laying down.

"Wild." Sky says gently, and his ears automatically pick up and he bounds back to attention on his feet, defeat and acceptance on his face as Sky continues, "I want you to use that blanket."

But the words become horrified towards the end and startled gasps force past the lips of the others. The same movement Wild had sprung up in sends his tiny body swaying dangerously, and then crashing down just as fast. They're by his side in a moment, and the shivering body and panting breaths are suddenly the center of their world.

"Cub," Twi rasps, leaning forward to touch the boy, and immediately jerks back, horrified.

The others, sharing apprehensive looks, lean in as well. Four, irises a tender red, actually chokes back a sob as they find his skin burning beneath their hands. Wild's eyes crack open with a shuddering gasp, and dilate between large and small as he looks up at them. They choke down their emotions when tears well up in accepting eyes and trail down his cheeks.

"Cub!" Twi repeats, his voice somewhere between terror, exasperation, and fury, " _Why_ on _Din's Red Planet_ did you not say anything sooner?"

Wild visibly flinches, trying to sit up as the words are said. When he finds himself incapable he falls back and his voice sniffles, "You're mad."

"Of course I'm mad," Twi hisses, "I-"

He's cut off by Wild's small voice, wreaked with pain and fear, "Sorry. I-" He has to stop and take a deep stabilizing breath that sends a cough through his body. "Sorry I slowed you down. You, you can leave me, I know the king ordered you to if I was weak. You don't have to pretend to tolerate me anymore." His smile is bitter through the tears, and his words are somehow composed through it.

"What?" gasps Hyrule.

"That bitch!" Snarls Legend.

"Wild?" Wind's voice shakes as he moves closer to their companion, and picks up his body to rest it against his own, "Please don't talk like that. We don't just tolerate you. You're my friend."

"Don't say that!" The words are borderline screaming, and send him into a fit of coughs, "They'll kill you. I don't deserve friendship. I don't deserve pity. You guys are my superiors, why do you _care_? Why do you-" He's broken off by his own sobs, his fingers feebly try to push Wind's stunned body away. "Why won't you hurt me? They'll kill you. The king will kill you. I don't _deserve_ kindness."

Around the camp, there's shocked silence.


	5. Panic

Wild trailed behind them, carefully avoiding the occasional glance sent his way by meticulously scanning the open plains they had emerged into. He hadn't looked them in the eyes since the moblin had wounded him well over a day ago. They still worried over the way he had scrambled upright to stand silently, downcast and trembling, just after he had woken up. 

When they made to start out again, he had just stood and stared after them with a painfully expressionless face. It became clear after a few minutes of walking that he didn't plan on following. They had doubled back to get him, and found him sitting cross-legged on the very spot he had passed out. His arms are curled across his hunched midsection and though his position speaks volumes about what he's feeling, his face is empty and his eyes void. 

"Why did they heal me?" They hear him question himself, "I should have died here, it was my fault for getting distracted." His quiet lowers to a distressed hiss, "Did they just want to prolong it?" 

His voice had dropped to the faintest of whispers then, nearly inaudible and completely unintelligible. He had curled farther into himself then and they couldn't watch anymore. 

"Wild, come on! We're burning daylight." Legend had huffed.

Wild had frozen completely before jumping up to face them. He hadn't met their eyes then either, to the frustration of many, and with a heavy sigh Time had turned them back to their journey. Wild stood there again, watching them leave again. It's only after they had stopped and yelled for him to catch up that he had crept back to his place at the back of the group.

When his ears come up and he's once again reporting monsters to Warrior in a quiet, shivering voice, an unspoken mutual agreement goes through the group that he would not be fighting this battle. It's Wind and Hyrule that hold him back when the monsters, several bulbins on the backs of wild horses, come charging into view. They pull him away, ignoring his shaky protests, reassuring him that it's for his safety, they don't want him hurt. 

When the others come back after a hard-fought battle, wounded and covered in monster blood, he meets their eyes again for the first time. The regret there is near tangible.

"Sorry," He says, though there's nothing to be sorry for.

Time frowns at the boy and they all see the momentary recoil and the regret is gone. Replaced by the blankness.

A heavy sigh escapes Time and he turns his eyes away to survey the condition of his group. He grimaces at the blood and open wounds before pinching his nose and glancing to the sky.

"Alright. Wind, Hyrule, and I, as the least injured, will fan out and try to find cover for the night. Everyone else? Stay put until we get back."

There's a few mumbled agreements and the other 5, minus Wild, gratefully sink down to check their wounds. Wild hesitates as the 3 split up and leave the group, but a look from Warrior stops his inner debate of whether to help or not. He instead steps through the group in light movements, quietly offering assistance and growing increasingly more restless for every time he was shooed away. He finally ends up at the edge of the group, staring warily out across the grasslands. Watching and waiting tensely.

Hyrule returns 20 minutes later, "There's some kind of weird low-jungle over the hill that way." He says, "We would have to keep to the outsides until we know better what's in there, but it's better cover than the open."

Nods show understanding in the group as Twi adds, "Sounds good, we'll wait for Wind and Time to get back and head that way if there's nothing better."

Wind returns a bit later, covered in monster blood. He shakes his head in a tired, negatory motion before before settling down in the group. He grimaces, pulling his shirt over his head to deal with 4 deep, ragged claw marks on his upper arm.

Time returns just as the sun touches the horizon. 

"Just plains that way." He says, eyes lingering on Wind as he's filled in.

The group moves out for the not-jungle quickly, mindful of the setting sun and the thankfully minor injuries they had sustained. When they crest the hill Hyrule leads them to they are confronted by a gully filled with trees so low-lying that not a single one rises to their level. The broad leaves and intertwined branches and vines form a thick carpet that lays across the land with almost no breaks for clearings.

They cautiously descend down the hill, and peer through the waning light to see a thick wall of hanging vines and mosses, ferns, and thorned bushes under the thick leaf cover. Unforgiving and un-navigatable in the low light. Time purses his lips and leads them along the edge of the forest for a bit, looking for a way in, and finally finds it in a gap between the dense undergrowth. They push through, grimacing at the immediate change of climate to sticky, humid air trapped in by the greenery.

The cut down some ferns and set up camp for the night. Dinner is cooked by an unnaturally tense and robotic Wild. Any inquiries about his short breaths and fingers shaking as he serves them is met with his small head turning down and away, and him quickly moving to the next person. Bed rolls are unpacked, Four is set as watch, and sleep overcomes 7 of the remaining 8. 

Wild, half-sitting, half-laying down against the trunk of a tree, maintains vigilance. 'Have to get away, have to get somewhere safe. Have to get away,' his brain chants. It's only careful discipline and fear that keeps his breathing pattern from collapsing, his body from rocking. 'Have to get away.' 

He sees his chance when Four turns away, alert to a noise somewhere in the distance. He pulls himself into a hunched crouch, mentally rebuking himself for his posture. 'Father would be furious.' He thinks, and it makes it worse. With all the skill and stealth he could muster, he pulls himself out of their cleared campsite. The second he thinks he's out of hearing range he forgoes cation and bolts through the thick undergrowth. Thorns pull at his skin and clothing, but he disregards their presence. 'Have to get away. They can't hear.' 

His heart pounds in his ears, and though this is a pace he should easily be able to maintain his breathing quickly becomes quick, heaving pants. The nasty feeling he'd been suppressing since the fight wells to the top with a vengeance for his ignoring it. The forest changes around him as he goes, roots twisting out of the ground in large arching patterns. It grows impossibly denser, pressing in on him until he doubted he could breathe even under normal circumstances. 'Have to get away. They can't find me, they may have let me come with after my screw-up yesterday, they won't be so kind again.'

The trees remind him of the twisted faces of the lost woods. He almost feels comforted, but they only used to be his friends. Then they had insisted he draw the sword. He had trusted them, all his cute little friends, but they condoned this. Encouraged it, and locked him out of the woods so he could no longer hide when the world became too much. 

His legs give out beneath him and he's sent crashing to the ground. He lays there, gasping and reflexively muffling his sobs for a moment before he pulls himself to a crawl and wedges himself in the nearest small space between the roots. He acutely feels the jab of a piece of wood into his side with every heaving breath, but he's trembling to badly to move it or himself. As his body collapses into shuddering sobs he can't stop the thoughts.

"Weak." They say, and he isn't sure if it's verbalized out loud but it rings in his head with enough pressure to make his head pound in time with his rapid heartbeat, "Useless. Stupid."

'They got "Hurt." because they didn't trust you to take on the monsters without getting killed. They don't trust you, you're "Worthless." to them. They hate you, you're too "Weak." to be a hero. They deserve better. 

Then Twilight is there. Wild hazily sees his face through the panic. He sees him yelling something into the forest as more Links also come into view. Then his hands are on Wild, pulling him close. Their presence feels like lava, even through clothing. His lips move silently, as if he may be speaking to Wild, but nothing other than the feel of fingers on him, another pair of hands checking the shallow wounds from the thorns, a third running through his hair, gets through to him. It's burning and uncomfortable and all together too much.

'Look at you, being cradled like a baby and still finding something wrong with it. I'm sorry they have to deal with you.'

He was being unfair to them, they didn't deserve to deal with him. "Sorry." He heaves, and repeats it, again, again, again until it's lost among the white noise in his mind. He's sure his lips are still moving as he feebly pushes at Twi's chest, trying with what little shaky strength he had left to get him to leave him. He tries with all his trained and memorized discipline to force himself back to neutral, but it won't come. Why wouldn't it come now, when he needs it most? Had all his work at it been for nothing?

He's too caught up in his panic and the white noise of his mind to hear Time saying that they were just making it worse by being there. He doesn't hear the following vicious debate on leaving him to sort himself out. ("He's just a child Time! We can't leave him here alone like this!" "Just out of sight, we're making it worse. He'll pass out before he calms down like this.") But he does notice when the burning, prickling feeling of their bodies leave his.

Twi sets him down, and the Link's retreat back into the forest. He's unconsciously wedged himself in the hole between roots again in a matter of seconds.

' _They're fed up with you. They're_ "Leaving." _you. You_ "Deserve it." _You're_ "Weak." _compared to them. It would've happened sooner or later anyway. They don't need you slowing them down you "_ Useless." _excuse of a hero. You_ "Deserve this." _You-'_

The Links hearts ache as they watch, hidden. Waiting for the day when they could comfort him without it hurting.


	6. Haircut

Wild's panting breaths shake even the most emotionally detached of them. The last time they had seen him like this, it had been the middle of the woods in the dark of night. They'd had to leave him then. Stay out of sight of the shaking, sobbing child who told himself all those awful things like he deserved them. He can see in the defeated postures and sad eyes of the others that they're prepared to do so again.

He isn't.

Things are different now, he hopes. The progress they'd made with the kid couldn't have been for nothing. So when Time calls the order and the others retreat, Legend creeps forward. He concerns himself first with prying Twi's sword, much to large and awkward for a child this size but thankfully unmoving as the kid fixates on the bloodied edge, from the child's deathgrip.

The second the blade is removed, he discards it behind him, not quite trusting Wild to not lunge for it and accidentally hurt himself further. The kid's eyes follow it for a second, but then drop vacantly to his bloodied, shaky hands. The right of said hands moves to the laceration on his cheek, the left to his partially sawed off hair. It speaks many things when he doesn't even flinch at the wound, but breaks into fresh sobs when he feels his hair.

"Hey." Legend raises his hands non-threateningly and his voice comes softly. He'd almost forgotten what it was like to be so gentle with his words, the last time he'd allowed it was with Her. "You're okay Wild, it's okay."

His words get him no reaction beyond the stumbling of the child. He just reaches out in time to catch him as his legs give out and he drops bonelessly. He's reminded of why Twi's wouldn't touch anyone for days after the anxiety attack when the first choked, "Sorry," pushes through Wild's lips. Another follows soon after, and then one after the other they spill from him in broken heaves.

"It's okay," He says again, "You're okay, there's nothing to be sorry for."

For some reason it works. Wild quiets in his embrace as he shifts them to a more comfortable position, settling himself on the ground and pulling the shaking kid into his lap to lay against his chest. He reaches blindly for his pouch as he gets a good view of the wound on Wild's cheek, and produces a cloth to press firmly against it. Internally, he starts counting to 15 minutes. Externally, he breathes an apology in response to the tiny whimper Wild produces.

Legend's internal timer clocks it at a 7 minutes 40 when he notices the way Wild's heaving breaths have slowed in an attempt to match his. He conscientiously regulates and deepens his breathing to every 5 seconds of his ticking clock. 

It's nearing the 14 minute mark when Wild, with significantly improved breathing, reaches a trembling hand to lay bloodied fingers over Legend's on the cloth. His chest tightens and he thinks he would shed tears himself if he didn't think it would distress Wild further.

At 15 minutes, he lifts the cloth, and is relieved to see the bleeding had slowed to a trickle. He settles the cloth cloth back over the wound and debates disturbing their peace to move one of his legs that had fallen asleep.

At 19 minutes, 13 seconds he hears the most heartbreaking thing he's heard in a long time.

"He'll hurt me again." Wild whispers. "He says I can't have long hair."

Wild's eyes meet his. They're no longer fearful, but instead holding a deep seated acceptance that borders the emotionless mask they've finally started seeing past. He sees the gloss over Wild's dull expression and knows that if he fucks up his next words the tears will be back. He fights down the pressure rising in his throat and allows his left hand to find Wild's.

"Oh kiddo-" His voice breaks and he has to take a second more to collect himself, "No one will hurt you here. You're safe, I promise."

The trust that brings life to his dull expression is a wonderful, painful thing. Legend pulls him closer to his chest, pulling away the cloth to wrap both arms around Wild's small frame and lowering his face to the kids hair momentarily to hide the silent tears that slip through his guard. When he pulls away he once again sees the damage Wild had done to his hair. With a grimace, he acknowledges that it will have to be cut. 

He hopes Wild won't take it badly when he says in the gentlest voice he can manage, "I'm sorry, but we do have to cut it."

His hopes are dashed as Wild stiffens in his arms and tugs in a painful sounding breath. "Yes sir." He says quietly, and the trust is gone from his voice. Instead echoing with the awful, sickening blankness again.

Fighting the way Wild attempts to pull away he quickly tries to explain. "I just want to even it out, you didn't get through the left side of your hair. I don't want to hurt you, I just want to help. I won't take off more than necessary, but I need you to trust me when I say I don't want it for the same reasons whoever 'he' is did."

Wild stops fighting him, and a moment passes where he sits and contemplates Legend's words. A hand reaches gingerly for the left side of his hair. Legend is glad he can't see what expression comes with Wild's sharp, shuddering inhale upon contact. 

"Okay." His voice is muted and raw again, with no trace of the child knight, "I trust you."


	7. Gone

 

 

_'Dead?'_ He thinks. It can't be true, Mipha's the most alive person he'd ever known. She had too much skill and love to be killed.

But a much taller Sidon is here, in the plaza of the Domain. Standing in front a statue that stood in her honor, constructed from stone that lit up the night. Telling him that she died fighting alongside the Hylian champion. That she died fighting for Link. That she died for him.

Sidon sends a fond smile at the statue and reaches down to ruffle the hair of what he thinks is only a passing Hylian child. "Do not worry though, my small friend! We have long forgiven the Hylians for her passing. We don't blame the your hero for it anymore, that would be unfair to her memory as his closest friend!

The 'anymore' rings through the fuzzy haze in his head. That means that they had, at one point, so he must have been able to do something. Anything. 

She's dead, but she couldn't be. He briefly considers it being a joke, but he knows she would never do that to him. Even so, he desperately casts his eyes around, waiting for her to come running out of the palace, or the splash of her cresting a waterfall to land and surprise him. His fingers prickle with the same numbness in his heart when she doesn't come. 

Excusing himself from the Zora's presence, he fights down the rising static, knowing that tears would follow. Not here, not now. Later maybe, far, far from anyone. Or... 

His eyes drift across the bridge to the camp that held the other Links. They had told him it was alright to come to them, encouraged it even, but that didn't stop the voice in his head. _'They're lying.'_ it hisses, _'They want you to believe they are your friends. They want to test if you're really as weak as they think. They'll turn on you, you know they will. Everyone else has.'_

He's never so badly wanted a hug. Wanted to feel her smooth scales and tickle her in the place below her gills that made her laugh until she cried from it. _'She's gone.'_ the voice growls in distorted glee, ' _The only person that tolerated you for you is dead.'_ His numb body is carrying him towards their camp on auto-pilot, they tolerate him. _'They tolerate the knight training in you.'_ He considers turning around, he trusts the voice, it's been with him forever and it's right about just how worthless he is. It's too late though, he's already lurching into the firelight circle. Tears sting his the back of his throat, but not yet his eyes. He's sure he looks ugly and messy to reflect the emotions his training is failing to suppress, hardly the perfect knight he should be.

Their eyes jump up to meet him, and he almost retreats as they examine him. They shouldn't have to deal with his emotions, he should be able to push them down. When did he become so soft? He'd seen death before, caused it. 

He manages a single step back before he finds himself folded in Twi's arms. "Cub? What happened?" The voice is low and soothing. Vibrating through his body. _Safe_.

He can no longer hold it, he feels emotions he'd been pushing down forever rise. He reaches with blind, trembling hands for the fur of Twi's cape. Curling fingers in the thick, silky pelt to ground himself as tears roll silently down prickling cheeks. Crying is odd this time, no panting and speaking to himself, but he feels just as breathless as if he was. His throat aches and his eyes burn, but he doesn't feel it like he should. The only thing not affected by the haze is the way he feels as if someone's speared him through the stomach. His whole chest hurts with a level of pain beyond training or punishment and he wishes Mipha was here to take away this hurt too. 

He knows that at some point Twi settles on the ground. The deep vibrato of his hum is a much more pleasant sound than the voice in his head and his own crying. He knows the thin, gentle fingers that twine through his hair are Legend's. Someone else is rubbing circles on his back. All around him are gentle, comforting whispers. Muted and earnest they speak of family and love and protection. They tell him that he is courageous and intuitive, accepted among them. That he is worthwhile and they would never leave him. The tears are easier after a while, though his whole body settles into a deep-seated ache. He feels more exhausted then the time he had been made to spend 24 consecutive hours running drills.

He isn't sure how long it lasts, but the fire is low when he pulls away from Twi's damp chest. A rag gently cleans his face, and water is handed to him by Sky with eyes so sincere and kind the tears almost begin anew.

"I'm sorry," he whispers through a rough throat.

There's an instant huff from Legend, "Kiddo," he begins, exasperated.

"What's there to be sorry for?" Chimes Four, cutting Legend off, sitting close and peering at him with hearth-warm, red eyes, "Everyone needs a good cry every once in a while. I would know, I've taken a few."

His grin is almost enough to give Wild one too, but he catches worried faces in his peripherals and feels guilt rise up in his chest. "Sorry you guys have to deal with me. I. I know I shouldn't feel so it doesn't slow you down but I just- I don't know. You're _safe_."

When there isn't an immediate response he feels his body tense of its own accord and lowers his head as he breathes out another apology. It isn't clear to him in any way other than feeling Twi's shaky inhale, but his statement carries more heart-wrenching power than he anticipates. 

"Cub," Twi starts carefully, his voice is trembling and wrong. 

Turning his head up to see his face, Wild is horrified to see telltale shining in Twi's eyes. _'I made him cry.'_ The thought crashes into him with enough force to send his body instantly trying to scramble of Twi's lap. 

"Sorry," he gasps, but strong arms lock around his chest and drag him back down. They lock around him in a tight embrace, and Twi rests his head on top of Wild's.

"It's an honor you trust us enough to let us help you. You're not slowing us down, or whatever you think is so negative about this."

Affirming words and nods from the other Links set Wild back at ease. Wind comes and settles down near Twi, leaning on Wild's exposed side. He slips his eyes closed and hears the rustle of the others joining a steadily growing pile of warm bodies and comforting words. He feels weightless surrounded by them, and he's so tired.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Time asks from somewhere to his left. 

He finds himself unconsciously shaking his head at the question as his head tits towards Twi's shoulder and he drifts off. The next morning he wakes in a pile of almost too warm bodies, their weight reassuring against him. A brief moment of irrationality considers that they'll be different about it in the daylight. He's beyond happy when no jabs are made at him when they wake up, and there are no disapproving words and looks when he leans on Sky's arm while eating breakfast.

The majority of them head into the Domain a bit later, but Wild can't bring himself to do it. As long as he stayed out here she may still be happily living in the castle without him. If he went in while the sun was up and she didn't greet him then there would be no chance she was living happily without him.

He instead goes to sit idly by the river, a bit downstream of where it flowed from under the Domain. He tries for a hopeless moment to sort out his mind, but gives up at trying to make sense of it quickly. Everything's muddled and uncertain. He isn't quite sure what he's feeling without the perpetual calm of the child knight. He jumps as the water suddenly swells in front of him and a old, light green Zora rises and pulls himself onto the bank.

"Hello Link, glad to see you've replaced our Princess so quickly." She sneers.

Tensul, he recognizes. An esteemed member of the Zoran royal guard. Valued for her loyalty, courage, and. Honesty, she only ever told the truth. He greets her with a nod, struggling to push away the instinct to clamp down on his emotions. Failing as old habits resurface and push him to the back of his own mind.

"You're pretty chummy with those other Hylians of yours. I would've thought you'd be trying harder to protect your people than that."

He lowers his blank face, waiting for her to continue. She was his superior, everyone was. He can't help but wonder what she means.

"Good to see you still have some manners, after seeing you approach the Prince without groveling I was beginning to think you might've been defective. Well, more so than before that is. And all that wailing you did? I hope you get a solid punishment back home." 

They sit in silence for a moment. "You realize you killed her, right? She trusted you to save her, we all did. You failed not only her, but all of her people." She only hesitates for a split second as his head comes up to face her before roughly grabbing his shoulders, he feels his skin tear under her claws as she spins him to face her.

"The Prince told you that our people do not blame you for her death yes, _hero?_ And you believed him? You are just as much a fool as you are a failure. He tells you that because he needs to maintain the relationship between out people and yours. I'm sure you don't understand, it's like a friendship where you don't get each other hurt." The old Zora hisses. 

"Our people think of her every day, our Prince still cries over her sometimes. You probably don't understand that either. You have no emotions, that's exactly why everyone who loves you will leave or end up just as broken and defective as you are. Her caring for you is what got her killed, I hope you remember that when you go back to being the Empire's _tool_." 

The Zora spins abruptly to jump back into the river, leaving the child alone as the voice comes creeping back. ' _She died for you, it's your fault._ ' It reaffirms, and he believes it, ' _She's right you know,'* It taunts, *'Everyone who ever loves you is going to hurt you or get hurt. You're to screwed up for it to happen any other way.'_

An image of the other Links surface in his mind's eye and his fingers curl painfully tight into the grass on the bank. They cared for him, they said so in words and actions. ' _They've made their choice, they decided they were your friends. When they get killed that will be your fault too._ ' He sees their blood again from the battles they'd fought protecting him. Horrible, gruesome thoughts fill his head with their bodies lying in the same way he had witnessed other soldiers die in the heat of battle. He shudders, he can't let them get killed for him. His happiness wasn't that important. Swallowing the pulsing he feels in his throat, and pushing down the child that cried at the thought of losing the only living people he could trust, losing the comfort and family he had found just last night, he tries to focus. 

How? How to get them to hate him? They were heroes, nothing could intimidate them away from him. He'd seen Twi track things that should be impossible to follow. Running and hiding wasn't an option like it used to be. _'You know how. You've seen how mad Warrior gets when you call him sir. Time hates how you push your emotions down. Legend wouldn't forgive you if you tried cutting your hair again. You could make them despise you. They'd be safe then. You aren't as important as them anyway, everyone hates you. They will too eventually, you may as well save them in the process._ '

When he returns to camp much later, after cleaning himself of fresh tear stains, they smile greetings at him at him. He brushes aside their puzzlement when he doesn't return the cheery hellos.

"Have fun in the river kid?" Warrior grins, recovering from the silence.

Something pushed deep down inside Wild cracks when he answers with lowering his ears and face and quietly saying, "Yes sir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bonus for those of you you actually read end notes lol:
> 
> Warrior leaned against Time, looking more dead than alive. His hair messy and filled with rare tangles from his the way his fingers pushed through it, shaky with stress.
> 
> "What did I do? He was so happy. We were so close to breaking through." 
> 
> He looks to their father figure for answers, and finds none in the way even Time's eye is too bright and full of the same pain as the rest of them. Twi's arms circle both Warrior's and Time's shoulders, pulling them close. Before long, all of the Links are piled together again. This time it's not to comfort Wild, but to starve off their shared pain as they watch him. His body still and unnaturally straight as he keeps watch an unnecessary distance from them. They don't need to see his face to know it's cool and emotionless.
> 
> "I thought we were getting through, it feels like I'm losing him and can't do anything about it." Twi says, if they hadn't spent months traveling with him they would miss the shaky emotion he buries trying to comfort them.
> 
> Around the camp there is a shared thought, _'What did we do to push him away?'_


	8. Live

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those of you who read the bonus last time may recognize the start of this one >.> So yes, this is a sequel of sorts for Gone. ~~Tho I may have an actual sequel that resolves things tentatively planned out~~

Warrior leaned against Time, looking more dead than alive. His hair messy and filled with rare tangles from his the way his fingers push through it, shaky with stress. "What did I do? He was so happy. How did I hurt him when we were so close to breaking through?"

He looks to their father figure for answers, and finds none in the way even Time's eye is shimmering, full of the same pain as the rest of them. Twi's arms circle both Warrior's and Time's shoulders, pulling them close. Before long, all of the Links are piled together again. This time it's not to comfort Wild, but to starve off their shared pain as they watch him. His body still and unnaturally straight as he keeps watch an unnecessary distance from them. They don't need to see his face to know it's cool and emotionless.

"I thought we were getting through, it feels like I'm losing him and can't do anything about it." Twi says. If they hadn't spent months traveling with him they would miss the shaky emotion buried in his words.

Around the camp there is a shared question,  _'What did we do to push him away?'_   

A moment of silence echoes too loud, and none find the answer.

"Time?" Wind's voice shakes from where he's leaned into Hyrule's chest, "What do we do?"

Time hesitates, and his voice is thick with emotion when he voices the only answer he can come up with, "We wait."

There's several protests from heavy hearts in the cuddle pile, but they know their leader is probably right.

"We make sure he knows we're here for him, but we can't force him to say anything. We may hurt him like that. I-" Time's voice breaks, and he haltingly leans his head onto Twilight's. They've never seen their leader look so helpless, so broken.

None speak again that night, one by one falling into restless sleep.

Wild, from where he sits, unable to make out their conversation, hates himself for how little time it takes him to start craving their affection again. It's barely been a day and he feels like crying as he hears their soft words and comfort turn on each other near the campfire. He sits out of the firelight as they pile together without him. The dark feels like a metaphor to the way his heart aches to be invited to join them. 

He's tired by the time first and second watch are over. When he looks at them, however, he can't bring himself to wake any for third. His chest pangs with longing, wanting nothing more than to go settle in the warm crook of Twi's arm and sleep until his insensate body could keep up with the tender emotions his heart feels. He almost gives in, almost goes to join the warmth of the family he had finally found; But, he can't. He won't let them get hurt because he's too weak to push down his selfish nature. 

The tips of his fingers and the blood in his head pound the same beat as his heart. He's acutely aware of every patch of his skin exposed to the night air as his body tingles unpleasantly. The distant sound of the frogs and crickets, the murmur of the river, the droning of the many waterfalls, all feel too loud in his ears. They fill his head and it's all too much, too loud. Filling him and weighing him down until his head feels like it's stuffed with cotton as every thought comes slowly, without real connection. Above it all, he feels the overwhelming need to lock down his feelings as a familiar sensation rises in his throat. He's surprised the voice doesn't come too.

He wishes he could leave, climb some mountain or another and ride it out on his own. Keep himself grounded by keeping himself away. His eyes draw warily back to the pile of sleeping bodies. He couldn't leave them like that. Couldn't bear wake one and probably wake them all in the process; Couldn't subject them to his weakness. But, he can't leave them without a guard either. It would take them far too long to wake and untangle from each other. Any monster could simply walk up and kill one or more before they could even move. 

His chest falls to the comfortable, familiar void he's trained for at the mental image. He pushes aside his tiredness, puts the shaking, crying boy in his soul to the back of his mind. He didn't matter as long as they were okay. Sleep was a luxury too good for him anyway. He remembers his commander's words to him, that he didn't need sleep. That a hero should always remain vigilant to protect others. His back stings at the phantom pain of punishment when he was weak enough to give into the swaying of his body and fuzz of his mind. Vaguely hears the words hissed at him when he allowed the sleep-deprivation to cloud his sword-strikes as he trained with the rest of the boys by day. 

He regrets that sleep is something they never quite managed to train out of him. Sleep is a thing for those who live, largest animals down to tiny insects. Monsters to all the people he needed to protect, his eyes shift warily away from the sleeping Links. He hears his ~~father's~~  commander's voice telling him that he wasn't alive. That he only breathed to be the tool of the king, only moved to fulfill his duty as knight and hero. 

No, emotions and sleep and comfort were things he didn't deserve. Things that the weapon of the king didn't need. Things the sword Sky carried, Wild's sword, didn't require to work, so why should he?

He fixes his eyes back on the darkness beyond the camp. Forces himself to believe he's only checking on them every time his eyes are drawn back to their gentle, accepting, freeing silhouettes. Stubbornly ignores all feeling except the calm indifference that resided in the void the training had bestowed upon him. He flatly thinks a word of gratitude to the Zora, to Tensul and Mipha. He had almost forgotten his place as the dirt of the world.

 


	9. Person

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! All you commenters! I love you guys lots and I'm so sorry that my socially awkward ass can't find the bravery to respond to you guys, but know that I do read all of your lovely words and appreciate them!

It had been six days of hurt. The conscious part of Wild, buried deep in his makeshift bomb-shelter of emotional barricades, felt worse than he had in a long time. He should've known the voice was right. They didn't care about him, how could they? They didn't spare him a second glace now. No longer greeted him when he entered camp. Expected him to tend to the fire and cook dinner. Only allowed him rest when it was needed. Didn't bat an eye at the submissive behavior and the 'yes sir''s. How could he have been so dumb as to believe they cared for anything more than the soldier in him? 

So, not seeing any opposition, he let that part of him take over. Set to work pleasing their every need. Practiced keeping himself expressionless as he watched them grow closer in his absence. Walled the child back into the void it belonged in. Swore it would never see the sunlight again, would never escape to get him hurt after this.

He had _trusted_  them. So _foolishly_  trusted them. 

Why didn't he see that they were lying to him? Why hadn't he seen this side of them before? It _must_ have been him coming to them to cry. He had at least attempted to hide it before, got far enough away that they could respect him trying. That was the only possible explanation. They must hate him now. Hate him for his weakness the way he hates himself.

At least that meant they were safe. If they hated him then they were no longer in danger. That was the goal of this right? It didn't matter what he did and didn't feel when they were safe. Their lives were so much more important than his own well-being. He saw the way they laughed and cuddled and played together more without him there. Witnessed the bonds between them strengthen and their care for him drop off as if it had never existed in the first place. Maybe it hadn't. He knew they pulled away from brushing against him like he was the plague. Avoided eye-contact with him at all costs. Their whispers hushed when he came to close, he knew that they didn't trust him to keep whatever secret or joke they were sharing among themselves. 

He quickly fell into old habits. Slept little, thought less. Carefully concealed the growing bags under his eyes, though it wasn't like anyone cared. Kept watch most nights and put his body in a dull, obedient haze by day. Catching 10 or 30 minutes of rest here, a few hours during the night there. Just enough that he wouldn't lose his touch on reality and mess something up. He couldn't mess up. They would hurt him if he did. Others had lied about caring, about how they would never harm him. They might be the same, just playing with him until they knew they had his loyalty. Maybe they really had cared at one point, and had finally realized that he was a mere pawn to be toyed with at their leisure.

He doesn't bother cooking himself food to eat with them. Instead makes bland mush from unideal ingredients that is much more fitting for something like him. He doesn't bother hiding some of the other submissive behaviors he had learned to repress around them. Is so far back in the haze of his head that he doesn't see the horror on Time's face when he, after failing to find the exact ingredients for a meal he'd offhandedly mentioned he'd wanted earlier in the day, presents their leader with a similarly flexible branch as he had to Warrior so long ago.

He shakes as he awaits the sting across his arms, mentally counts bandages to see if it would hinder them too much should he selfishly take a few after Time had adequately disciplined him. Flinches when Time roughly grabs him after seconds of agonizing waiting, and hears for the first time in days that they are speaking words outside of the orders they give him. 

He tries to close out the noise. He had met much harsher fates for eavesdropping than many of his other screw-ups. Conversation was for people, not weapons. The words remain a dull roar in the back of his head, pounding and loud after he had gotten so used to silence. He feels his lips move in an apology for it. He wonders briefly when he'd spoken last for the way the word pulls at his dry mouth and throat.

"Wild, answer me." He hears Warrior's voice, risen to a commanding snarl, through it all.

That was okay. Commands were for weapons, not people.

He opens his eyes, when had they fallen closed? Maybe Warrior was mad that he had closed his eyes? Was that what he was to answer to Warrior for? He gingerly picks up the the slender piece of wood and moves to offer it to Warrior instead. Manages to once again push the other voices away. The quiet of his success is blissful. 

It means he doesn't hear the gasp of Wind's shaky voice; "Time, I don't understand? We gave him time like you said, why is he doing this?"

It means he doesn't hear Legend, closer to tears than they'd ever openly seen him; "Goddess _damn_ it Wild! Don't do this to us again!"

It means he doesn't hear Twi's shaky sniffles as he buries his tears in Time's shoulder.

It does mean that he stands there, stiff, emotionless, lifeless in front of Warrior. Small hands presenting the stick to him, blank eyes staring ahead through him.

"Wild. Talk to me." Warrior orders, no one comments on his tone because they can see it's the only thing Wild is responding to. Their only hope. They don't know what to do when the boy whispers another quiet, composed apology.

"No!" Warrior snaps at the apology. Wild flinches subtly, ears sinking impossibly lower and now shaking fingers pushing the stick towards Warrior again.

"Wild. _Talk,_ to me." He snaps again, desperation in his voice.

Inside Wild's mind is chaos, what did he mean talk? He rapidly flicks through all his training. He'd never been asked to talk, that wasn't for him. That was for people, not weapons? He opens his mouth to try and express that to the commanding voice. Regrets it as his body doubles over into full-chest coughs at trying to form words he didn't have muscle memory for. Viciously scolds himself for feeling that regret. Feeling wasn't for him either.

He feels the stick being taken, arms securing his body. Good. He deserved the penalty. Maybe they would let him sit alone to sort out his head after. Gentle arms flip him and drag him close to a chest.

"Wild. Cry." Warrior's commands, the others can hear the pain in his voice as they crowd around to watch Wild from where he now sits in Warrior's lap, head pressed to his heart.

Nothing happens for a moment. Wild simply sits and stares blankly into the distance. His mouth opens again and they're afraid he's going to start coughing once more.

"That's for people." His voice is clipped and formal even though it was rough and sounded more unused than just two days. The quicker of their group catch on with hissing breaths and sharp gasps before he even adds, "Conversing and crying are not for weapons. They are not in my training, I am sorry that I cannot carry out your orders."

"Wild," Warrior chokes, and they get a brief glance at how close he is to tears before he picks the commanding tone back up. "I don't want to talk to your training Wild. I know you're in there somewhere. You, not the knight. Wild, I order you to be you. _You_ you. Not the knight they've made you into."

Wild falls silent, staring sightlessly. It takes minutes, some of them have already given up by that time, for a full-body shudder to run through his tiny frame. His eyes fall closed, and his face screws up into something tight and visibly pained. His fingers reach for Warrior's scarf, finding purchase he pulls the fabric to himself. His breathing speeds and his body trembles. Warrior gingerly leans him against his shoulder, running calming fingers through his hair. Gently rubbing the kid's heaving chest with the other hand.

"That's it kid, come back to us." Warrior encourages tenderly.

They all tensely wait in the minute it takes his eyes to open. More than one give into tears as they see actual focus and emotion in Wild's eyes for the first time in days. They'd never thought they'd be glad to see the fear in his expression again. Then, in a great, shuddering breath, he caves. Tears well in his eyes and drip silently down his cheeks. His trembles diminish until only the faintest of shivers still linger in his small frame.

"Sorry sir," He rasps to Warrior, and audibly chokes as he's roughly jerked upward into a hug.

"Don't be sorry, just don't do it again." Warrior chokes, and none of them have the emotional strength to make fun of him for the way his voice cracks up an octave, "I thought we lost you."

"Lost, me?" Wild asks, they see him try and fight out of the hug, and his exhaustion is suddenly blatantly clear to them in not only his words but the weak way his body collapses under any enforced pressure by Warrior. "I wasn't wounded?"

"Maybe not physically." Time interrupts, moving to sit beside them with a sigh. "Cub. I know how hard it is to talk, but this is actually a danger to you now. We need to know what's happening."

"Time," Sky begins softly, settling shoulder to shoulder with Warrior and throwing the sail cloth over Wild. "He's tired, we can talk about this in the morning."

Time sighs softly and the others take it as their cue to move into the pile they had grown accustomed to sleeping in. Leaning into each other, all trying their best to get as close to Wild as possible, they settle down for the night. Wild had almost forgotten how good it felt. Safe and warm, surrounded by people who at the very least seemed to care-

He stops short. 

They might care. They might get hurt. 

Not stopping to rationalize, he once again throws what little exhausted strength into escaping. The simple tightening of Warrior's arms stops him short. It feels constricting on his chest, they're too close. He'd hurt them. He needed to get away, needed to make them get away. He couldn't feel emotion toward them, was he stupid? 

The second he thinks it, he slips back into the knight. He stops fighting and simply hangs compliantly in Warrior's arms.

"Wild?" Warrior questions, "Shit." he hisses quietly as he sees Wild's face. "Stop that, we just got you back. Why do you keep tryi-"

"You guys can't care about me." Wild cuts him off in the quiet knight voice.

"And why not?" Snarls Twi defensively from where he's settled in the pile, "I see nothing stopping us."

"You'll get hurt," He replies simply and they balk because *'Where in Hylia did he get that idea?'*,"I don't want anyone else to die because they care."

They stop for a second before Legend growls. "We're heroes Wild! I'd like to see this Goddess-forsaken creature that could take on all of us together when we've all beaten the great evils of our time solo. Kiddo, we're perfectly capable protecting ourselves. You don't have to choose between you and us. You're important too."

A quiet, heart-wrenching "Oh," is Wild's response. 

The others jump on board instantly, reassuring him that what he felt was important. The knight backs off as they talk about defending themselves, each other, and *him*. Telling him that that's what family did, they protected each other. That they wouldn't die and it wasn't his fault if anyone did. There's a childish part of him that is joyful at the validation. A part that's mad they don't take a hint and leave him alone. Sorrow for the inevitability of something harming them. Above it all there's a part of him that appreciates that they'd lie to him to make him feel better about himself.

 _'They'll realize you're dangerous eventually,'_ Says the voice.

 _'I know,'_  He replies.


End file.
